


Couldn't Utter My Love When It Counted

by ReneeoftheStars



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, F/M, Mandalore, Missed Opportunity, but they're a tragedy, informal goodbye, just after that year on the run on mandalore, just tell each other how you feel darn it, not admitting feelings, not my fault that's how filoni made them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-29 03:29:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18770293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReneeoftheStars/pseuds/ReneeoftheStars
Summary: The insurrection on Mandalore is over, and Satine Kryze and Obi-Wan Kenobi have their last few moments alone before they part ways.





	Couldn't Utter My Love When It Counted

**Author's Note:**

> Written for an anonymous ask on tumblr who sent me the Hozier lyric "Couldn't Utter My Love When It Counted" as a writing prompt.   
> After a few weeks of sitting in my inbox, I finally came up with this. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

“Obi?”

Obi-Wan’s pulse quickened as he scrambled up from his cross-legged position on the floor. He had opted to mediate before washing, and severely regretted it now. His tunic was still stained and rumpled, his boots mud-splattered, his robe wadded into a messy ball on the chaise. He could still smell the ashes from the fire, his hair must look atrocious –

She stood just inside the guest quarters as the door slid shut behind her, but she seemed hesitant to come closer. That made him nervous – in the year they’d been on the run together, not once had Satine Kryze _hesitated._ Yet there she stood, teetering on the balls of her feet, wringing her hands together as she watched him. She wore an unadorned white shift, pins and clips in her newly cut pale blond hair. It looked like she had escaped from her new ravenous team of stylists.

Obi-Wan stared at her, dumbfounded for a moment, before bowing clumsily. “Duchess.”

“That’s ‘Satine’ to you, Obi,” she said sternly, annoyed enough to step forward. “Such formalities shouldn’t exist between us.”

Shouldn’t…but did. How could they not, with her crest glinting from her earrings, with the guards he sensed beyond the door, with the lightsaber hanging heavy from his belt? When they were on the run, those reminders had seemed distant, unreal. But here…

He said nothing.

Her eyes narrowed as she considered him, then she gestured to the long chaise in the foyer of his temporary quarters. “Sit with me?”

Trying to inconspicuously adjust his tunic, Obi-Wan followed, perching half-off the edge of the seat, as though ready to spring up and dash away. He swatted the crumpled robe behind him, trying to hide it from her view. His stomach was roiling, his hands sweating. Whether through the Force or his understanding of social cues, he knew he didn’t want to be here with Satine like this.

Lightly clearing his throat, he managed, “Shouldn’t you be preparing for the celebration?”

“I gave my staff the slip, for the moment. Told the guards I needed some fresh air…and a friend.”

His heart skipped a beat. “You know that I’m happy to offer my…counsel.”

Her nose crinkled. “Don’t misunderstand me, Obi-Wan, but if it was counsel I sought, I’d go find Master Qui-Gon.”

Obi-Wan ducked his head, his cheeks burning. “Yes. Of course.”

They fell into silence, and he noticed she was sitting just as awkwardly as he was. If both of them put their hands out, they’d be touching. He could slide towards her just a bit and she could rest her head against his shoulder, like when they were lost in that cave system on Concord Dawn –

No. No, they couldn’t do that. It had been understandable then, when it was just the two of them alone, separated from Qui-Gon and fighting day after day to stay alive and make it back to the surface. But here, in the heart of Mandalore, surrounded by staff and guards, the weight of their separate responsibilities pressing down on them… there was no place here for them to be Obi-Wan and Satine.

Still, he couldn’t stop himself from saying, “I like your haircut. It suits you.”

She ran a hand across the shortened style, dislodging a pin and scowling as she worked it back into place. Her hair had gotten long during their adventures, and it often became tangled and unmanageable outside of a plait. This shorter style exposed her angular features and her smile, the sweet one she bestowed upon him now. He grinned back.

“I have meetings with my advisors tomorrow,” Satine said, draping her arms over the back of the chaise. “I think I’d like to have a cabinet with Ministers to help handle matters of state. I may be Duchess, but that’s no reason for me to be the sole ruler of Mandalore. A more democratic system will aid us, I believe –”

Obi-Wan listened to her talk about her plans for her new government. He smiled as she barely paused for breath and grew more excited as she went on. She leaned closer to him to emphasize a point, and didn’t really move back. He felt himself begin to relax, listening intently and following her every gesture, his gaze never travelling far from her face.

They had grown comfortable with one another over the past year. He considered her to be a dear friend. This, here, was easy. His anxiety must just have been left over from their encounter with the self-appointed Mand’alor, or the constant worry of being ambushed by bounty hunters for so long…

“ – so once that’s been sorted, I’d like you to accompany me to Concord Dawn and our other protectorates. I intend to speak to the populations there about what the New Mandalorian society will be, and as I anticipate some remnant insurgent activity, I would feel safer if you were with me. Of course, we have to consider –”

He was stirred out of his reverie. “Satine – we’re leaving right after the feast.”

She froze. “You’re – not staying?”

“We have to report back to the Council,” he replied, uneasy about the sudden frown on her face. “Now that the fighting is over, our mission is complete.”

“But what about me?”

His heart stuttered and he felt a rush of emotion. _Careful_ , he reminded himself harshly. “I…I’m not sure I take your meaning.”

“I mean –” She cleared her throat and straightened, her cheeks going pink. “I’ll need the assistance of the Jedi if I’m to help Mandalore. There are still pockets of protest across the system, infrastructure to rebuild, a cabinet of Ministers to organize –”

“That’s…none of that is anything the Jedi can help with.”

Satine’s eyes flashed. “Well, why not? You’re servants of the Republic, aren’t you? It should be your duty to stay here and help us rebuild.”

“We’re merely keepers of the peace. We can’t help with government matters like this.”

“So you’ll come for the violence, but won’t stay for the actual peace,” she said hotly.

Obi-Wan felt a spark of anger. “We didn’t want it to come to violence,” he retorted. “And once it did, it was all we could do to keep you safe.”

In an instant, Satine was on her feet, pacing away from him. “And if you hadn’t had to concern yourself with my _safety_ , would you have been able to protect civilians?”

He barked an incredulous laugh. “What would you have had us do? Satine, we’re two Jedi, not an army, and we’re certainly not miracle workers.”

“So many people are _dead._ ”

Obi-Wan fell silent.

Her voice lost some of its intensity. “I wanted to avoid bloodshed. I wanted to divorce our culture from the unnecessary violence and death of our past. And instead I brought about the worst civil war in recent history.”

The pain and grief in her voice twisted Obi-Wan’s gut. She was young, he reminded himself. They both were. Not even twenty yet, and she had the responsibility of ruling an entire system. It was too much to ask of a single person. He found himself going to her.

“You did what was necessary to bring your people peace,” he said softly. “You risked yourself to work towards a more stable future.” He laid his hands on her shoulders. “Satine. You will be a great ruler.”

She gazed up at him, and Obi-Wan suddenly realized how close they were. She need only raise herself onto her toes, or he to lower his head, and they would be face-to-face. It would be so simple, so right, to just lean down and kiss her –

He recoiled from the impulse. No. That was not a path he could go down, no matter how much he wanted to. His grip had tightened on Satine’s shoulders, and he released her now, taking a hasty step back as he sensed her about to move towards him.

Hurt flashed across her face before recomposing itself. “Thank you, Obi-Wan. It means the world to me to hear you say that.”

“It’s the truth.”

“Obi …” she hesitated.

“Yes?” _Ask me. Ask me to stay._

She looked up at him, biting her bottom lip as her brows drew together. Then her expression hardened.

“Nevermind.” Her voice was clipped. “It wouldn’t make a difference.”

Obi-Wan’s throat felt dry. “Then I suppose there’s nothing left to say.” Internally, he winced.

Anger glinted in her eyes, and Obi-Wan sensed a shift. Some disconnect opened between them, but he couldn’t tell what it was or how to repair it.

“No. I suppose there isn’t.”

Snatching his robe from the chaise, Satine hurled it at him, smacking his face and leaving him fumbling to collect it.

“I shall see you at the feast, _Maser Jedi_ ,” she snapped, the full weight of authority in her voice. “And my best wishes to you in your endeavors to save the galaxy from itself.” And with that, she spun on her heel and strode out of the guest suite.  

He took two steps forward, ready to call her name, to beg her back, to kiss her, to confess that he loved her –

_No_.

Obi-Wan sank back on to the chaise, putting his head in his hands. It did not matter if he admitted his feelings to himself. To admit them to her would put him at odds with the Order, with his sworn duty to the Republic. His world would be turned upside-down, his obligations constantly questioned, his Knighthood improbable at best.

As he sensed her storming away, a wave of regret washed over him. They would not have another moment alone together. They would interact formally at the ceremony, then he and Qui-Gon would return to Coruscant and their next assignment.

_I should have told her I loved her._

But then again, he considered gloomily, she hadn’t said it either.

*          *          *

Satine barely made it back to her dressing rooms before she burst into tears.

Her attendants swarmed her and she felt nauseous at their touch, wishing it was Obi-Wan that reached out to her, trying to pull her close in a comforting embrace. She brushed them away, demanding that they leave her. It was only after the dressmaker shooed them that they reluctantly left. Satine didn’t know the woman well, but was grateful for her aid.

“And what’s the matter, Duchess?” the woman asked, adjusting the cushion on the chair for Satine to sit.

She dashed a hand angrily at the tears. “That Jedi is _insufferable_!”

“And which one would that be?”

“Obi-Wan!”

“Ah.” The dressmaker nodded sagely. “Young love.”

The words bit into Satine and she rounded on the woman. “That’s _not_ it!”

“My apologies, Duchess,” she said demurely, bowing and moving off, leaving Satine alone, if only temporarily.

Satine sank into her chair, clutching her face in her hands, the words spinning in her head. _Young love. Young love_.

Was that it? Did she love Obi-Wan? She cared about him, of course. He had been her companion, her protector, her confidant, for the last year. He was a dear friend, stubborn as he was. But did she have romantic feelings toward him?

She gave a gasping laugh at the thought, wiping her eyes on a neatly folded towel on the vanity. _I’m a fool._ Yes, yes, if she was honest with herself, she did love him. But how could she even think of telling him that? He’d made his choice. He chose the Jedi over her, his oath to the Republic over his loyalty to her.

And the worst part was, she couldn’t even blame him. Well, of course she could, and she was going to. His choice was selfish, because it knowingly kept them apart. But Satine could not deny that it was also noble and wise. Which she somehow both admired and detested.  

She sat up in the chair and dried her eyes. She didn’t have time to dwell on this; she had a celebration to attend, and a planetary system to revitalize. The galaxy wasn’t going to stop because a lovesick girl was pining over a missed opportunity, though she sorely wished it would.

Satine summoned her stylists back into the room, and as they set to work on her hair, makeup, and clothing, she mentally prepared herself for facing Obi-Wan a final time.


End file.
